Watson held a single red rose delicately between his fore and middle fingers. He had never really been a large fan of St. Valentine's day, but this year someone had taken upon his fancy. The rose was only a small gesture, one that he planned to be anonymous; partly because he knew that his Valentine was not so big on romance themselves, and partly because his feelings for this brilliant person were kept a strict secret. That was exactly the way he wanted to keep things. Perhaps the doctor should have realised a long time ago that where Sherlock Holmes is involved, things rarely go the way one first intended. No sooner had Watson placed the flower on Holmes' desk, then did a very familiar voice sound from directly behind him.
"Happy Valentine's day, Watson."
